


More Than a Man or Machine

by ilovemiax



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Bottom Paladin Danse, Cutting, Eventual Smut, M/M, Self-Harm, Top Hancock, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemiax/pseuds/ilovemiax
Summary: Dark thoughts creep into Danse's mind and he wonders just how much of him is a machine. A knife in his arm becomes his answer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The last chapter may or may not have sex. You let me know if you want this shippy or platonic. So far it's being written as shippy.
> 
> Chapter warnings: self harm
> 
> *if you're here because of my DBH stuff, don't worry I'm not abandoning it. I just had to get this fic out of my brain

Danse hated being left in Sanctuary. It wasn’t the settlement or its residents that bothered him. It was the lack of something to do. Of course, there were the general tasks that needed to be done like harvesting whatever crops there were, pumping water, or keeping watch for enemies. But seeing that Danse was on the road with Nate more often than not, he had never really been assigned a task to help out the settlement.

Preston however didn’t seem to mind whenever Danse was around and freely gave him things to do weather or not Danse requested. “I’ve received word that there’s a settlement that needs our help. I know that you’re not technically part of the Minute Men, but I know you care about the commonwealth.” Then, he’d proceed to mark it on Danse’s map. While it was odd that Garvey was so comfortable with giving him such missions, the ex-brotherhood soldier never minded; he did like feeling useful.

But unfortunately for Danse, today was not one of those days. Summer had crawled in making the heat unbearable for everyone. Which included raiders, ghouls, super mutants, etc. It seemed as though minutes were sluggishly going by and making a day seem like years. Even Danse, normally inseparable from his beloved power armor, was having a hard time stay inside it. It just felt like he was drowning in his own sweat. So, he’s foregone his armor in favor of a plaid shirt and jeans.

“Looking good tin can,” Hancock drawled as he spotted Danse wandering around the settlement attempting to do something to pass the time. Normally a tune up on his armor was his favored method of passing time, but quite honestly there was nothing he could tune up anymore. He’d done everything he could on his suit the previous day.

“Freak,” Danse greeted back at Hancock.

Goodneighbor’s mayor gave Danse a smug look before replying back with, “Synth.”

Danse flinched at the word. He’d still never really come to terms with being a machine. But, he did promise Nate he wouldn’t give up and try to accept his new life.

“You know,” Hancock continues eying Danse up and down, “I think you should get laid. Hey, if you’re into it, I could do it for you. Might loosen you up a little… or a lot.” He laughed at his own innuendo.

Danse narrowed his eyes, “I don’t like what you’re insinuating, ghoul.”

“What?” The mirth in Hancock only continued to grow unphased by Danse’s irritation, “You saying you don’t want a cock in your ass? Or maybe your cock in-”

“STOP!” Danse snapped, “discussing one’s sexual activities are-”

“-are what?” Hancock grinned, “unprofessional? That’s what I’m saying! You’re too high strung.” He turned to leave Danse alone, “I meant what I said earlier. If you ever need to blow off steam-  _ ha _ \- come find me.”

“As if,  _ ghoul. _ ”

“Tin can.” Hancock only smirked and left only to quickly bump into Valentine.

There was a twinge in his heart as Danse watched the pair leave. It suddenly struck him that he had no friends in the settlement. Preston didn’t count considering the man only came to him when there was a settlement in need of help. Dogmeat, well, he was dog. Hancock sometimes made a effort to talk to him but because of his ghoulified nature, Danse was never really friendly back. And Nate? Well, Nate was the only person he could consider his friend but he wasn’t always around. Which left Danse lonely.

Seeing as he had nothing to do and there was no one he really wanted (or could) socialize with, Danse headed back to an abandoned house nate said he could stay in. It was a little further from the other houses and spoke true to Danse’s isolation. An outsider even in a place that deemed him non-hostile. Well, that hurt. Maybe he should try to make a friend here. It would certainly make the times spent away from Nate more bearable.

His mind flickered back to Cutler. His one and only friend before… well, before. The most terrifying thought was the notion that Cutler wasn’t real. That he was a memory implanted by the Institute. So even then, his only friend wasn’t real. Nothing was real about Danse and that was the one thing that scared him the most. He wasn’t even sure if he was even real right now.

Danse sank down on the bed laying his head against the pillow. Maybe if he could just sleep it off he’d be fine in the morning. Or whenever he woke up. Sleep was never kind to him. Most likely, he’d wake up in a couple hours anyway. But even a couple hours of thoughtless relief would be most welcome.

He shifted in the bed trying to get comfortable in the heat. He could feel the lumps in his pillow and the hard handle of the blade hidden underneath. Annoyed, Danse reached under his pillow to grab the knife before a sudden thought occurred to him.

Sitting up, he stared at the knife and his exposed arm.  _ “How much of me is machine?”  _ He wondered.  _ “I’m just wires and mechanical parts, right? Or is there something more?” _ Danse knew he bled like a human evident from the injuries he’d sustained while in service to the Brotherhood. But something darker tugged at him wondering just how far he could cut before he reached the metal and wires underneath his skin.

Without a second thought, Danse pressed the knife to his arm and made a shallow cut. Blood welled to the surface and dripped down his arm. The pain was minimal and for some reason the feeling of pain was just plain irritating. He was a synth. A machine. He wasn’t supposed to feel pain. That was a human thing and he wasn’t human.

Danse pressed the knife to his skin again and this time dug in just a bit harder. More blood rushed out and the pain intensified only escalating Danse’s frustration with himself. How dare the Institute create an abomination like him? A thing that could feel pain. What kind of sick bastards would want a machine to feel pain?

He added another cut to his arm deeper than before. Where were the wires? The metal that made up his skeletal frame? Obviously, Danse reasoned, he hadn’t cut deep enough yet. The pain was throbbing and almost distracting but Danse gritted his teeth. The pain was false. Probably a way to make synths act as “human” as possible or a failsafe in case someone tried to cut them up. Either way, Danse was convinced the pain was a fault in his programming.

His arm was covered in blood and coming out in dangerous amounts.  _ “Synths don’t need blood to survive,”   _ Danse reminded himself. There was no need to use a stimpack or halt in his current activity. Once again, he lifted the knife and took a deep breath to steel himself. This cut had to be deep enough to reach his ‘bone’ and wires. He needed to see for himself the parts he was made out of. And maybe seeing would help him come to terms with the thing that he really was. Danse let the knife carve into his skin ignoring the alarm bells going off in his head as the knife finally hit something solid.

He gasped tossing the knife away and looked down at the new cut. It was bleeding profusely but Danse ignored it in favor of digging his fingers into the open wound. The pain made his vision white out for a second but he pressed harder trying to feel for any semblance of a mechanical structure.

His head was starting to spin and the pain just kept growing. “Go away,” he grumbled to the pain still trying to search his arm for tech. The room started spinning and Danse felt dizzy. Another failsafe, he figured. There was no reason for him to be feeling dizzy. Not from blood loss anyway. Just another fault in his programming.

_ “Maybe… maybe if I just lie down for a second, I’ll be okay,”  _ he thought and allowed himself to lie on the bed. Blood was coming out like a faucet and Danse blearily watched it form a large puddle on the floor. “ _ I should clean that up before Nate gets back.”  _ Black spots began to appear in his vision and Danse let his eyes close hearing Hancock’s raspy voice in conversation with Codsworth just outside the house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock has a talk with Nick, sorts out some feelings, and goes to find Danse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. I would've posted it yesterday but I was having a shit day.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: self harm, blood

Hancock rolled his eyes and walked away from Danse quickly catching up to Valentine. He stood by his statement. Danse was too high strung and definitely needed to get laid. By Hancock, preferably. No one could deny that the former Brotherhood soldier was easy on the eye and exactly the ghoul’s type. The commanding kind who craved submission and would be an absolute pillow princess. Too bad Danse was too dense to see it.

“Nicky!” He half jogged to Nick who waited for him to catch up.

“Something on your mind?” The synth detective asked.

Hancock shrugged and popped a Mentats in his mouth, “You notice anything different about-” he nodded his head in Danse’s direction.

“You mean other than the fact that he just found out he’s a synth?” Nick didn’t wait for an answer, “that man is going through hell. If you really want to reach them, then be patient.”

Hancock sighed in his Mentats aided haze, knowing that Nick was absolutely right. However, being patient wasn’t really Hancock’s strongest quality. He vaguely wondered if he even possessed that quality. Maybe with the help of some Jet he could. Just ride the waves of time until Danse was ready to talk. Or at least be open about accepting who he really was.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Nick interrupted.

“What? Oh,” Hancock shrugged, “I just think he’s spending too much time thinking when he could be living. I mean, how long did it take you before you adapted?”

Nick didn’t take long to ponder the question, “Well, I’ve always known that I was a synth. And you have to remember that I came from a time where synths weren’t the same kinda threat they are now. Hell, I’m one lucky son of a bitch to be where I am.”

“Touché.”

Nick had a twinkle in his eye that Hancock knew too well. It mean the detective had a thought/theory/whatever and he was about to invoke some kind of thought in Hancock’s head. “I have a question for you.”

“Can I plead the 5th?”

“Considering that’s pre-war government, no. Frankly, I’m surprised that you know what that is.”

“Hey,” Hancock scowled, “I know things. Hell, I live in a fucking museum.”

It was Nick’s turn to crack a smile but he continued, “Why are you so focused on Paladin Danse? All I’ve ever seen between you two is ugly banter and racist comments.”

Hancock wasn’t actually expecting that question so he took a moment to answer pausing their walk around Sanctuary. “I guess,” he began slowly, “I guess it’s because I can see the old me in him. Not really liking who you are and wanting to escape it.” 

There was silence for a while and then Hancock admitted, “and he’s easy on the eyes.”

Nick let out a rare laugh at the last comment, “Go easy on him, Hancock. I’m not sure that emotional instability is the right time to start a relationship.”

“Who said was looking for a relationship?”

The synth smiled kindly and lit a cigarette, “Despite your reputation, I know you’d prefer a relationship to a one night stand. You’ve always been a one soul at time kinda guy.” Nick gave Hancock a friendly pat on the back before leaving him alone in the streets.

 

_ “Ugh, fuck patience,” _ Hancock thought and promptly went around the neighborhood trying to locate the paladin. He paused in the middle of the street straining his ears for the telltale clanking of power armor. The only sound he did hear was Codsworth’s humming as he trimmed the non-existent shrubbery in front of Nate and Nora’s house.

Deep down, Hancock was curious about what the inside of their house looked like but knew better than to ask or try and break in. For one, Codsworth would kill him before and secondly, Hancock wasn’t the type to intrude on personal matters. He knew about Nate’s history and had no desire to invalidate the man’s attachment to the house.

“Hey, Codsworth!” Hancock called out to the Mr. Handy, “You see where Danse went?”

“Paladin Danse?” Codsworth turned around and faced Hancock, “I do believe he went into the residence over me,” the robot butler informed him.

“Huh, really? Why?” 

The question was more said under his breath, but Codsworth answered him anyway. “Well, I overheard Mr. Nate telling him he could reside there since he did not wish to-” Codsworth stopped as if realizing that he was about to divulge personal information that the paladin may not want to be common knowledge.

Hancock ignored it and simply tipped his hat, “Thanks Cod-man!”

“Cod _ sworth _ ,” the robot corrected with a huff, “I do not appreciate my name being shortened. You do not shorted Ms. Curie’s name and you should not shorten mine.”

“Sorry,  _ Codsworth. _ ” Hancock gave him a mock salute and waltzed into the house where the front door should have been. 

“Hey, Dancer!” He called listening for any sound. There was none and Hancock rolled his eyes. Was that asshole just hiding from him? “If you’re beatin’ your meat just give a shout and I’ll leave!” He paused and then, “or maybe you want a hand with that?”

He laughed at his own joke and dipped down the hallway peering into each respective room. No Danse. “I’d better not be talking to myself. That’s just embarrass-” Hancock reached the last room and his eyes blew wide open at the sight before him.

Blood was everywhere. Danse was lying on the bed looking paler than normal and if it weren’t for the ragged breathing Hancock would’ve thought he was actually dead. The blood coming out of had already formed a rather large pool and kept flowing at an alarming rate. The wonder of how deep Danse had cut was overpowered by the frantic need to keep the former paladin alive.

“FUCK!” Hancock bolted inside shucking the flag around his waist and tying it tightly around Danse’s arm. “Hey, Danse. Talk to me!”

There was no response but Hancock kept babbling anyway as he fished around his jacket for a stimpack. In all his years of being alive, he’d seen some pretty fucked up shit but walking in on the suicide of a friend took the top of his list. Deep down, Hancock was berating himself for not noticing that anything was off with Danse. Well, more off than usual.

The stimpack was quickly injected and Hancock watched the flow of blood ebb and the would begin to heal itself. He stabbed a second one into Danse’s arm for good measure before finally untying the flag and using it as a makeshift bandage.

“Fuck,” Hancock whispered, “What am I supposed to do now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might make this longer than three chapters... I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you all so much for sticking around and reading! (Small author's note at the end which you should read)
> 
> No chapter warnings apply for this chapter. Also, I took small liberties with Hancock's affinity dialogue from the game.

Danse awoke with a throbbing in his arm and the drum of a headache. The stickiness of blood was something he expected to feel but actually felt none of that. Rather, he was lying on the other, non-bloody side of the mattress and the blood that had dripped to the floor had been cleaned.

A cold pulse when through him as he realized that someone had found him. Fuck. He prayed that it wasn’t someone like Hancock who would undoubtedly tease him or make some quip about his situation.

It turned out that whatever deity existed hated him because Hancock’s gravelly voice added to the grating sound in Danse’s head. “Sleeping beauty awakes. How’re you feeling?”

Feeling? Danse groaned, “What happened?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth and it felt like sand had been poured down his throat. He turned his head and finally took at the ghoul who’d wrapped his bloody arm in the American flag.

Hancock sat in a chair with his arms crossed and his legs spread open as if presenting himself to Danse. The former paladin knew this was simply just how Hancock preferred to sit, but it still annoyed him to no end.

“You tell me,” Hancock answered back. There was a sharp edge to the way he spoke as if he were bordering on angry. Danse glowered but then quickly noticed that his knife was stuck into Hancock’s boot.

The ghoul seemed to notice where Danse’s eye went because he shifted his legs so the knife was no longer in Danse’s eye line. For some reason the gesture irritated Danse, but at least the ghoul’s legs were closed.

Danse narrowed his eyes daring to confront the ghoul’s tone, “Are you… are you angry with me?”

“Really, what was your first clue?” Bitterness was now more pronounced but he still wasn’t exploding. What surprised Danse was that Hancock actually stopped and took a breath. Was he actually trying to control himself? Why? “No,” he finally said, “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry about the situation.”

“What situation?” Danse sat up furrowing his brows. The situation in which he tried to dig for his wires? That hardly counted as a situation. Oh. It finally clicked. Hancock actually thought that he was trying to kill himself. “I wasn’t trying to die,” Danse finally mumbled.

Hancock gave him a look of disbelief, “Really? Because I don’t think your arm agrees with you.”

“It’s fine,” Danse insisted, “I’m a synth and synths don’t need blood or anything like that to-”

“Yes!” Hancock cut in bubbling with anger, “Yes, they do! You’re not just some  _ thing _ , Danse. You’re alive!”

Danse frowned unsure of why this ghoul was angry at him. He didn’t actually mean to pass out from blood loss. In fact the simple idea that a  _ synth  _ could pass out from blood loss was utterly ridiculous. “I was just- I wanted to find out how much of me was tech.” It was the simple and truthful answer.

The look on Hancock’s face was enough to confuse Danse further. It seemed like the ghoul was emotionally affected by his confession. He watched as Hancock stood and sat next to him. “And that meant taking a knife to your arm and digging around?” His voice grew soft.

“Well, yes. That was the most logical thing to do. I look human but I’m not. I had to know how much of me is fake.”

Hancock shook his head and took Danse’s bloody arm and held it like he was precious. Danse felt his heart thrum when Hancock touched him and the feeling only added to the muddled thoughts in his head. He didn’t understand what was happening anymore.

“Why are you acting like you care?” He asked.

“This ain’t acting, _ ”  _ Hancock looked horrified, “I care because you’re my friend!”

“Friend? You’re always belittling me and calling me names-” Danse stopped. Another revelation. Of course Hancock would belittle and call him names. Because he did the same to the ghoul. All the countless times that he called Hancock ‘freak’; he just assumed that Hancock didn’t think anything of it because Hancock would retaliate or simply grin and brush it off.

“Oh… I’m sorry. I treated you like dirt and you don’t deserve that.” Danse mumbled after that looking away, “Not like me.”

“Woah, hey. Don’t be thinking like that,” Hancock moved to try and meet Danse’s eye, “Everyone here is your friend. You just gotta let us in.”

Danse felt a lump in his throat. He hadn’t felt that feeling in a long time. He hadn’t cried or felt the urge to cry since Cutler and even then he hadn’t allowed himself to shed any. At the time, he felt like he didn’t deserve it. After all, he had been the one to pull the trigger and put his best friend out of his misery. In that moment, Danse considered himself a murderer. Now, as a synth, Danse felt even less worthy to cry. He wasn’t meant to have feelings, thoughts, or even free will. He was a machine and machines didn’t cry.

“I can see the gears turning in your head,” Hancock winced at his choice of words, “what I mean is that you’re thinkin’ too hard.” He looked down at Danse’s arm and then back up at the broken man. “You tell me that you did  _ this  _ because you wanted to see how much of you was machine but something tells me that if I didn’t find you when I did, and you bled out, that you would okay with that.”

That stung. It stung because he knew it was true. He was just a machine and machines weren’t really alive to begin with. So if he ‘died’ nothing would happen. He was like a suit of power armor. Useful, but once that usefulness was finished then he could just be discarded for something better. Nate leaving Danse behind in favor of that insubordinate human merc must’ve been a sign of his usefulness ending. Soon, Danse knew that he would be left in Sanctuary indefinitely while Nate went on to travel with the others. He had no need for a broken  ~~man~~ machine.

Danse swallowed hard and tried to pull his arm away from Hancock. But Hancock held on gently careful not to disturb the wound. “Let me tell you something, Danse,” he said rubbing his thumb against the smooth part of the paladin’s skin.

That, Danse realized, was the first time that Hancock had called him by his name. He didn’t say anything and let Hancock keep talking. Anything to keep his own mouth shut and maybe to distract Hancock from their current situation. He still tried to take his arm back but the ghoul wasn’t letting up.

“Before I was ghoul I partied a lot. Really liked chems. Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Most people think I did it for fun. Obviously for fun, but there was something else too. I hated the world and I hated the politics of everything. Especially my dumbass ghoul hating brother. When he ran for mayor and kicked all the ghouls out of Diamond City, I had it. I just couldn't wait to get away from him and his whole damn constituency. I still wasn't a Ghoul at this point, so I didn't have to leave, but I couldn't bring myself to stay in that cesspool after that. I'd been sneakin' off to Goodneighbor for years to get decent chems, so I knew the safe routes. I managed to track down a couple of the families, lead 'em there, but most couldn't get used to the Goodneighbor lifestyle. I brought them food for a couple of weeks, but after a while, they just disappeared. Folks in Diamond City signed their death warrants and all the good people were willing to just sit by and watch. I felt like I was the only one who saw how screwed up things truly were, who couldn't just pretend things were fine.”

Danse’s eyes shot up to look at Hancock but the ghoul wasn’t looking at him. He had no idea that Hancock had a brother, let alone the revelation that it was Diamond City’s mayor.

Hancock continued, “I fell into the chems hard after that. Got fucked up at every chance that I got. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind left, and only one hit. I tell people that the high was so worth it.” Hancock paused to take a breath and this time looked up at Danse locking their eyes, “Running from myself is what made me into... into a damn Ghoul. I figured if I could become someone else that what better way to do that than by becoming a ghoul? I don’t have the same face and hell, I could become literally anyone.”

Danse sucked in his breath unsure of what to do or what to say.

With his free hand, Hancock reached out and cupped Danse’s cheek. “What I’m trying to say is you ain’t alone in this.”

The kindness combine with the gentle touch, and soft pitch dark eyes broke Danse. His face crumpled and his walls disintegrated. The tears flowed fast and free and humiliation burst forward almost consuming him. Hancock seemed to understand because finally, he let go of Danse’s arm in favor of grabbing the man and wrapping him into a tight hug. With the illusion for privacy Danse let himself go. He sobbed louder that he ever had in his entire life.

For the first time he cried for his own pain. The feeling of his identity being ripped away from him and for the anger of being denied real memories. The lack of loving parents or siblings and the false life that he’d been living. The unfairness of everything. He cried for his loneliness and his desperate need to travel with Nate to make himself feel useful. He cried because of Hancock. Because Hancock found him, told him his story, and told him that he wasn’t alone. He cried because for the first time he felt okay. Not great, but just okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author's note that I was talking about earlier:
> 
> For those of you who want this fic to be strictly platonic this is the end of the fic.  
> For those of you who want all the shippy the next chapter is 100000% smutty :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock and Danse have sex :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally updated after fucking forever. So have some actual fucking :D

Hancock ended up holding Danse until the paladin cried himself to sleep. Even then, the ghoul didn’t let go. He waited until he was sure that Danse was asleep before carefully administering another stimpack and properly dressing his arm with bandages. 

Nick had stopped by to check on Hancock and Danse; mostly to confirm that the pair hadn’t ripped each other apart and was actually more concerned about walking in on an… intimate scene. What Nick found however was Hancock disinfecting Danse’s massacred arm while the man slept. Being a detective and a fellow synth, it didn’t take much for Nick to piece together what had happened.

“I’ll get you some proper bandages and make sure no one disturbs you both,” Nick had simply stated and left. When he returned, Hancock was waiting patiently with the cuts covered to keep them from being exposed to the elements.

“Seeing this,” Nick finally spoke when Hancock finished bandaging his arm, “the way you care for him… it makes me wonder just how many people have showed Danse this level of kindness.” He gave Hancock a pointed look to stop him from offering up a comment to dismiss his true feelings, “And don’t give me that ‘I just want to get in his pants’ crap. I know you better than that.” And with that, he left.

In the back of the ghoul’s mind he wondered if Nick was right. If this was the first time that Danse had ever been taken care of. On the rare occasion that Nate had requested for Danse and Hancock to accompany him, the mayor had seen how selfless Danse was. Something inside him burned with the knowledge that the Brotherhood would just toss the paladin aside and with a ‘kill on sight’ order. And yet, Hancock had never heard Danse make one bad remark against them. If fact, he’d heard the man continue to voice his support for his former brothers and sisters.

The sun was beginning to set and as much as Hancock wanted to stay awake to watch over Danse, his eyes were getting heavy. Against (probably) better judgement, Hancock moved behind Danse, lay down and wrapped his arms around the man. At the very least, he reasoned, being a big spoon might be comforting to Danse. He hoped. He wasn’t even sure if Danse was okay with this level of physical contact.

 

Danse awoke to the sound of someone breathing into his shoulder and an odd warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. For a brief second his mind flashed back to the one terrible winter in Rivet City where he and Cutler had slept together for warmth- which then turned into a little bit more than ‘sleeping’. The idea that Hancock was the one behind him made Danse’s heart flutter but he quickly pushed that feeling aside. Hancock was just being nice. There was no reason for Danse to be feeling the way he was feeling.

Hoping not to wake the ghoul so he could slip away, Danse shifted and winced as the bed let out a loud creak. The sound stirred Hancock and Danse tensed in the ghoul’s arms pretending to still be asleep. No such luck.

“You ain’t gotta pretend,” Hancock’s voice was thick with sleep, “I know you’re awake.”

Damnit. Danse took a deep breath and sat up. Hancock rose with him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

The paladin tensed at the touch and Hancock removed his hand but was quickly surprised when Danse actually grabbed Hancock’s hand keeping it on his shoulder. Out of reflex or out of something else; Hancock wasn’t entirely sure. But he gave a gentle squeeze to the man’s shoulder indicting that he wasn’t going to let go. “I-” Danse stuttered and tried to find words but simply settled on, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” There was a short pause and then, “Nothing wrong with a little human contact. Well,” Hancock gave a short laugh, “ _ ghoul  _ contact.”

Danse was envious at how easy it was for Hancock’s words to slip out and make him feel at ease. Or maybe he was just overthinking it. And for some reason, he wasn’t appalled by the fact that it was a ghoul’s hand touching him. Before, he would’ve shot him on sight but now? Nate would call that growth or something to that effect. But right now that’s not what Danse wanted to think about.

He wanted to just feel. Feel more of Hancock’s hands on him. As if reading his mind, the mayor’s hand dropped from his shoulder and slid down his arm until it was circling around his waist with the other hand reaching forward to join. Danse felt Hancock’s head resting against his back.

“Is this okay?” Hancock asked, his voice muffled by Danse’s shirt.

Danse wanted to speak and say that it was okay but instead he shook his head. Hancock was quick to let go but the paladin quickly turned around and threw himself into the ghoul’s arms before there could be any more words spoken. Danse tried to speak what he wanted.

He wanted to tell Hancock that he liked the feeling of being embraced. That it brought out the longing desire to be held that he’s stifled for so long in his efforts to be a model soldier for the brotherhood. Even more so, Danse wanted to tell Hancock that he was grateful for the ghoul. For taking the time to take care of him and-  _ OH GOD. _

Apparently hugging Hancock and thinking about the ghoul touching him was doing a bit more to his body than he thought. How the hell was he going to escape now without showing the world he was getting a semi from a hug? Was he really that touch deprived?

The answer was yes because the second Hancock got over the initial shock of Danse initiating the hug, he wrapped his arms around the paladin only to hear an aborted moan.

Huh. Hancock wondered if he heard correctly or if it was just wishful thinking. To test his theory, he began to rub small circles into Danse’s back. He felt the man tense and there was a slight shuffle in his hips. Oh yeah. That had definitely been a moan. There was another moan that was cut off and Danse pulled back. His face was red and he was ready to bolt but Hancock wasn’t about to let him.

“It’s okay,” Hancock said, “there ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

The comment didn’t stop Danse from ducking his head and wishing he could sink into the floor. He couldn’t believe himself. He was a soldier and he should be better at controlling himself. “I- I’m sorry,” he managed to stutter, “I should go.”

“And what if I ask you to stay?” Hancock still didn’t let go of Danse. Instead, he pulled him closer wondering just much he could push. “You’re obviously enjoying yourself and so am I.”

“But I’m a synth.”

“You’re still on that? Of course you are. But look,” Hancock was more gentle and this time when he brought Danse closer, the paladin let him. “Synth or not, you’re still Danse. And… you need to let yourself go once in a while.”

Taking the risk, Hancock’s hand went up and he gently cupped Danse’s cheek and brought their faces close enough that their noses brushed. He wasn’t about to kiss the other man. Not without permission first.

Danse’s heart was beating so loud that he swore it had to be audible. The closeness was becoming too much and his semi was now a full hard on. He had to do something. Running seemed like the best option. Let him lick his metaphorical wounds in solitude and maybe rub one out while shamefully imagining Hancock. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Hancock’s hand on his cheek was magnetizing and he just wanted to feel  _ more. _

Fuck it, he decided and took a leap of faith. He leaned forward and connected their lips. Never having actually kissed anyone in his life before, Danse wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. And it was painfully obvious. His attempt as deepening the kiss was messy and uncoordinated with too much teeth and not enough tongue. Finally, they pulled away and Danse was ready to bolt.

“S-sorry,” Danse apologized for what felt like the millionth time that day, “I’ve never… done… anything like that before.” He ducked his head and waited for Hancock’s inevitable laughter.

But there was no laughter. Only Hancock gently lifting his chin to meet Danse’s embarrassed eye. “It’s okay. Like I said before, there ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

Hancock kissed Danse and this time is was different. He took the lead gently sucking on the paladin’s bottom lip until there was more more breath left and they were forced to pull apart for air.

Danse was addicted to the sensation of Hancock on his mouth and he wanted more. He leaned forward not caring about this own breath and let out a soft sigh when Hancock licked his lip. His mouth opened and Hancock took the opportunity to wiggle his tongue into Danse’s mouth. The new experience had Danse weak and he was glad to be sitting on the bed otherwise he swore his knees would’ve buckled. Everything was just so new and so intoxicating. Maybe he was beginning to understand a little why a lot of brotherhood soldiers disappeared on “personal leaves” and come back looking exhausted but content.

Danse felt hands wandering up and down his arms and suddenly was frustrated by it. He wanted to feel more of Hancock and not just over his sleeves. He wanted the cumbersome material gone. But to do that meant he had to stop kissing Hancock and that was something he didn’t want to do.

“Hey,” Hancock pulled away slightly and placed a steady hand on Danse’s chest when the paladin whined and tried to keep kissing. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” Danse nodded eagerly and took the opportunity to try and shuck his shirt. He reached for Hancock’s hoping to signal that he wanted to feel the other man too.

Hancock grabbed Danse’s wrist and stopped him from ripping off his shirt, “Woah, there. You sure about this?”

Danse nodded, “Yes, gods yes. I want this. Please, I want to feel you.”

Who was Hancock to argue? He let go Danse’s wrist and was fast in removing his clothes but kept his boxers on. He wasn’t sure just how far the paladin wanted to go and he wasn’t about to assume anything. As far as he knew, Danse was just touch starved and needed physical contact without any sexual action.

That thought went out the window because as soon as he was back on the bed, Danse climbed into his lap and was back to kissing him. Hancock could feel the heat between them and the desperation behind Danse’s kisses. He could tell by the munte shuffles in his hips that Danse was at least trying to control himself from flat out grinding on Hancock. So, it seemed like sex was on the table.

Hancock nipped and sucked at Danse’s lips before braving a kiss to his cheek, down his neck, and chest. His hand went up and found a nipple brushing over it. Danse’s hips bucked and he let out a soft moan. Heh. Hancock took the opportunity and flipped them over so Danse was lying flat on his back with the ghoul straddling his hips.

They took a moment to stare at each other. Danse was breathing hard and his dick twitched with interest as Hancock ground their clothed erections together. “P-please, Hancock,” Danse whimpered softly, “I- I-” He wanted more but wasn’t sure how to ask or what more even meant. He looked up at Hancock helplessly.

Thankfully Hancock understood because he nodded and scooted back. He reached for the band so Danse’s boxers and after a brief nod of permission, Hancock pulled them down. The cool air hit the paladin’s cock and his shivered. A dribble of precum dropped onto his stomach and suddenly Danse felt too exposed. He tried to pull his legs closed but that was impossible with Hancock sitting between them.

Hancock could see panic starting to settle in Danse and he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. At least covering him a little might made him feel better. It worked because soon Danse was wiggling and trying to thrust his hips up seeking friction. Hancock smiled into their kiss and reached down and grabbed Danse’s cock.

Danse let out an obscene moan. He’d mastubated before, but the feeling of another man’s hand was so different that his own. It felt better; more intense. But still, that desire for more- whatever that more was- lingered and became stronger.

“You’re still okay with this?” Hancock asked.

Danse nodded, “I’m just nervous.”

Hancock leaned backwards and smoothed his palms against Danse’s perfectly sculpted chest. “If you want me to stop just say so.” He leaned over the bed and was barely able to snatch his jacket off the floor. Ignoring Danse’s confused look, he fished through his pocket until he found what he was looking for.

“What is that?” Danse asked eyeing the small tub of unidentified substance.

“Industrial shortening that’s been transferred into a smaller container for convenience,” Hancock explained. At Danse’s further confused look Hancock elaborated further. “If I don’t prep you it’s going to hurt us both.”

“Oh? OH.” The paladin’s face went redder than an over ripened Tato. He saw Hancock’s questioning look and quickly nodded, “I’m good.” He appreciated that Hancock was taking the time to make sure that at every step he was still okay to proceed with their sexual activity. “No, wait,” he suddenly blurted out and turned his head away in embarrassment, “I-I want to see you too.” He looked back at Hancock to see the ghoul grinning and eagerly shucking his boxers.

“Like what you see?” The ghoul’s grin went even wider as he saw Danse’s eyes track his hand as he stroked it over his cock.

Danse could only bob his head unable to tear his eyes from Hancock’s dick. He felt saliva pooling in his mouth and for a moment he had the obscene notion that he wanted it in his mouth. He wanted to know how it tasted and the weight of the cock in his mouth.

“You’re uh, making me a little self conscious here,” Hancock laughed nervously.

“No! I-” Danse bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, “Iwantyourcockinmymouth.” He didn’t open his eyes and felt Hancock moving. A deep sinking feeling filled his chest. Fuck, we went and screwed it all up. Hancock was probably on his way out the door.

“Open your eyes, love,” Hancock soothed and Danse did. He found Hancock kneeling over his chest and his cock perfectly positioned where Danse could slip it into his mouth.

He didn’t waste time and he latched onto Hancock’s hips, opened his mouth, and took down the ghoul’s dick as far in his mouth as he could.

“Woah, hey there, s-slow down a little!” Hancock gave a gentle tug on Danse’s hair.

Danse let Hancock breathe a moment before continuing. He bobbed his head relishing in the salty taste of sweat and precum that gathered in his mouth. It was a taste unlike any other and Dnase felt his dick growing stiffer. He tried to take Hancock as deep as he could ignoring the pinpricks of tears that flooded to his eyes and the slight burn in the back of his throat as he pushed a little deeper than he should have. It felt like he was a starving man and the only thing that could satiate him was Hancock’s dick.

“D-Danse, I’m gonna- you have to stop or I’m gonna cum.” Hancock pulled away grabbing his throbbing dick to stop himself from cumming. He scooted back before Danse had the sense to grab him and try to him him cum in his mouth. That would just end their fun too early.

He looked at Danse and was captivated by the debauched look on the paladin’s face. His lips were swollen and his pupils we blown out. He was already so wrecked that Hancock couldn’t wait to see the look on his face during orgasm.

Hancock took a moment to compose himself before he reached for the tub of shortening. He dipped his fingers in and placed them at Danse’s entrance. “Relax for me, okay?” He waited for Danse to give his affirmation. He massaged the area around the paladin’s hole before he slipped a finger inside.

Danse gasped and clutched at the blankets. Fuck. It was burning and his asshole throbbed around the intrusion. Faintly, he heard Hancock softly shushing him and rubbing his thigh with his free hand.

“Breathe,” Hancock eased, “breathe and relax.”

Danse did as he said and took a breath through his nose and let it out with shaking muscles. He felt that it did actually make the pain marginally better so he continued. The pain never fully faded but at least it came down to a muted sense of intrusion. It was then that Hancock finally started moving his finger. It was finally starting to feel pleasurable and Danse prepared himself for Hancock’s second finger. Again, there was the burn but it wasn’t as bad as before.

Hancock kept an eye on Danse’s breathing and the shake of his muscles. It was mesmerizing to watch his fingers moving in and out of the paladin and even more so to listen to Danse’s soft gasps and moans. He crooked his finger searching for the one spot that would make Danse sing his name and turn into a writhing mess. He pressed hard and was rewarded with a loud wail of pleasure. The sound was enough that Hancock was aching to slide his dick into his sweet tight ass but knew that Danse still needed time to relax.

“I-I need you,” Danse whimpered, “pl-please.”

Hancock shook his head, “You’re not ready.”

Danse arched his hips seeking out more of that pleasurable feeling, “I-I am, please, I’m ready!”   
“Fuck yeah, okay,” Hancock slipped his fingers out and grabbed the tub of shortening again. He coated as much of the substance he could on his dick and lined himself up against Danse’s hole. He slid in and Danse latched his arms around Hancock’s neck.

“M-more,” he stuttered and Hancock obliged. He bottomed out and felt Danse shaking underneath him. He waited for Danse to tell him to move before he started gently rocking.

Danse felt Hancock’s heat inside him, consuming him. The feeling of being full was overwhelming and he wanted to drown in it. Pleasure was coursing through him like electricity building and building until he felt like he was going to burst.

He felt Hancock hitting that perfect spot and Danse was practically crying for more. His body was shaking so much he wasn’t even sure he had the muscle control to pull Hancock closer. Danse did his best to try and lock his legs around Hancock’s waist and beg him to fuck him like there was so tomorrow. Instead he was only able to gasp out, “Harder!”

In response, Hancock fucked Danse  _ hard.  _ It made the paladin scream and writhe causing Hancock to thrust harder and harder. It was the perfect cycle to building pleasure. Danse’s vision was going white and his cock was throbbing with the need for release. He wanted to feel Hancock’s release inside him. He wanted to be stuffed and filled with the reminder of what was happening.

“Inside!” Danse gasped, “p-please inside! Cum inside me!”

That was enough to set Hancock over the edge and he spilled his load inside Danse filling him with what seemed like a never ending stream of cum. His hips jerked as Danse’s eyes rolled back into his head as the paladin came silently with his mouth open and body racked with uncontrollable tremors. Danse’s cum splattered their chests and he clung to Hancock like a lifeline.

Hancock held Danse and gently rocked his hips into the paladin coaxing him throw the waves of aftershock and bordering on oversensitivity. Then finally, the trembling lessened and Hancock slipped his soft penis from Danse’s body. He wrapped his arms around the paladin who had started to gasp for air. And it was the kind of gasping that Hancock knew as the fine line between laughter or tears; being okay or breaking down.

Hancock chose to hug Danse close to his chest and rub his back gently peppering soft kisses to his face between gentle words of encouragement.

Without meaning to Danse let out a soft laugh and a sleepy, “Outstanding,” before falling sleeping in Hancock’s arms.

Hancock smiled and cradled Danse into a more comfortable position before falling asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I hope y'all enjoyed! As soon as I finish my Detroit fic, I'll probably be back with more Hancock/Danse.
> 
> Also, why isn't this ship called Dansecock? Literally, any ship with Hancock should end in "cock". It's perfect!

**Author's Note:**

> What'd y'all think? Worth another chapter? Let me know in the comments! Please, I live for them so much T^T


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